


Be My Baby

by dattumblrgal



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: And houses, Family Drama, Fluff, Growing Up, Harry's a socialite, House as a Character, M/M, Momrry, Parenthood, Super Rich Kids vibes let's be honest, basically Harry's having a baby and he's very soft and excited and it's all lovely, if you're into massive old libraries this is the place for you, just a smidge, kind of, lots of literary references, sort of a writer too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25054276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dattumblrgal/pseuds/dattumblrgal
Summary: Daisy scanned the light-blue fabric and nodded. “It's a good suit. You look nice.”“Thanks, love,” Harry said. Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair. A long pause passed before he nearly made Daisy choke on her wine, “I think I'm gonna have a baby. Just me, on my own.”Daisy coughed a few times, her hand on her chest as she looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Why on earth would you do that?”Written for the prompt - Harry, who has always enjoyed being everybody’s baby, is having a baby.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Happiness, but harry/happiness is what truly matters here, past relationships are mentioned
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36
Collections: Momrry Fic Fest 2020





	Be My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> i've had such a lovely time writing this one! the title is from the ronettes' 'be my baby' because i feel like that's something harry would sing under his breath when thinking about his baby. anyway, enjoy! :)

White Willow Manor has stood at the centre of Harry's life for as long as he can remember. A steadfast constant, the Georgian house with its many rooms and a sprawling garden is a character of its own. Houses have acted as sentient individuals in many stories, sometimes angry like the Hill House or a suffocating dream that is Gatsby's West Egg house. White Willow is more of a spectator, a chameleon reflecting the emotions and turmoils of its residents. Seeing generations come and go, wars, Kings and Queens, White Willow's walls are bleeding history, while listening in with a careful ear that doesn't have a mouth to tattletale your secrets.

Harry wasn't born at White Willow, which he sometimes deems a pity when he's contemplating writing a memoir. Maybe a skilful editor will help him come up with a little lie, so it all sounds better. Despite the small imperfection, all the events that have shaped his life have happened under White Willow's stoic supervision. His first steps, his first broken bone, his first kiss (aged six, in the garden, with his mum's best friend's seven-year-old daughter), his first real kiss (aged fifteen, in a guestroom, with his mum's other best friend's eighteen-year-old son) and many other firsts.

When he was nine, he had this literary phase. His mum had given him a strict screen time limit and he'd outgrown his boyish years of running around the garden chasing cats and playing football with the wall or the groundskeeper. White Willow's location on the outskirts of London was quite lonely. While school was in, his boredom was manageable but once summer came, Harry often found himself nearly all alone. Gemma was a teenager, which granted her the coveted privilege of going out with her friends in the city and she took full advantage of it. Harry was the baby of the family, the youngest of all the cousins. At every family reunion or a party, he wasn't included in the gossip that they were all so interested in and whenever he suggested they actually play, it was met with laughter. Surely, none of them were hanging around to keep him company in summer. He didn't mind being the baby because it allotted him more of his mum's attention and, most of the time, he got away with all his shenanigans. Everything except for screen time, because that, according to his mum and all the babysitters, was really dangerous. So Harry, with his limited access to TV and the computer, shifted his attention towards the manor's impressive library. There, no limits were given. Harry had free range all across the library, as long as he didn't touch the old documents and priceless first editions that were in the only bookshelf with glass cabinet doors. Of course, it was tempting to get his hands on them, but getting banned from the library wasn't worth it. (He got to them anyway, once he was a teenager and had little to no regard to rules imposed by parental figures.)

It was during that summer the house gained its sentience in Harry's eyes. He devoured one book after the other, mostly classics, which always included great stately homes and tales of balls and parties, the locations shrouded in a veil of romantic mystery. Harry started appreciating the manor more, stopped seeing it just as a strangely big, old house he grew up in. Suddenly, Harry found himself looking behind paintings, opening stray doors and cupboards in search of secret passageways, even sneaking up into the attic. He was looking for adventure, mystery. The whole endeavour was only fuelled by the new books that his mum got him after noticing he always had a book on him. Typical books you'd give a child slowly inching towards their teenage years, full of magic and adventure and monsters and friendship and mystery. Sadly, Harry never truly uncovered anything interesting in the manor. Or did he? 

The house became his friend, shielding him from loneliness. It seemed like his best friend at the end of that summer, a few days shy of the next school year when he and Gemma were called into a parlour one evening. Their parents were sitting on two different sofas, beckoning them to take a seat. The most vivid memory of the however many minutes their parents spent announcing their divorce is a mosquito that wouldn't stop biting Harry's ankle. Then it's the house, whose grandeur and radiance dropped gradually with each word that left their parents' mouths, how in a matter of moments it became dull and grim. On his way back to his room, the colours faded. He looked at wallpapers and paintings and everything seemed washed with grey, no longer vibrant. Harry felt the walls closing in, inching towards him but not in a suffocating way. Grief, that is what the house felt like that late August evening.

Years have passed and he had mostly outgrown his obsessive reading. Harry got to go to the city whenever he wanted, he was surrounded by people (sometimes a smidge too many of them). He was on the top of the world, as far as it goes for sixteen-year-olds. The house has lost most of its magic to Harry, now that he sometimes slept over at Gemma's flat smack dab in the middle of London that she bullied their dad into paying for. Sometimes being the children of divorce isn't so bad, as they discovered quite a sneaky way of getting their parents to do things as a competition. Who's the better parent this week? Stay tuned to see if it's Anne, who promised Gemma to send her to Paris for the summer to “learn French”, or if it's Des, who's planning to buy Harry a rare vintage convertible even if he hasn't got his license yet! Was it manipulating? Of course. But it wasn't them who had to be schlepped around every other weekend to see their dad and were ambushed with awkward dinners with their parents' potential new partners on the regular. This was payback.

The late spring of when Harry was sixteen brought yet another birthday party/charity event/the roundtable of family gossip. With his age, he was finally included in that gossip. The party wasn't just about his aunts pinching his cheeks and his grandma pulling at his curls and asking him how school is going. Now he was able to sneakily drink one flute of champagne after another and listen in as his cousins were pulling up all kinds of dirt on their parents. He even got a scoop of the adult gossip, even if it cost him a few smiles, kisses on cheeks and he let his aunt poke at him dimple and call him cute, like she did when he was a little boy.

The house was glorious, especially as the sun started going down and the lights illuminating it were like a lighthouse calling everyone in the garden in. Harry was pleasantly buzzed and also impatient. His eyes sought his watch frequently because he was due to be at another party in the city after this one. And that is where his plans got slightly skewed. His eyes landed on a refreshingly new face. The guests weren't all family and friends, there were loads of his mum's acquaintances and work associates too. But Harry never quite found outrageously handsome men standing alone, awkwardly looking around. This blonde lad, dressed in a not so tailored suit, caught Harry's eye immediately. Tall, stunning, looking slightly out of place. It took seconds to know that Harry had to shoot his shot. The next day, with a bit of luck, he didn't have to be a virgin anymore. It was getting a bit frustrating as all his friends have done it. Archie was dating Emily, Hugo slept with some cougar on a trip to Spain, Charlie's done it with four girls and two boys already. It was high time.

So Harry sauntered over and said, “I haven't seen you around before. Please, tell me we aren't related.”

The blonde looked at him a bit wide-eyed, a laugh escaping his lips. “Why should we be related?”

“Because it's my mum's birthday party and half these people are my relatives,” Harry smiled and offered his hand after pulling it out of his pocket. “I'm Harry. Lovely to meet you.”

“I'm Dylan,” he said, accepting the handshake. “It's a pleasure. You've saved me from the night of nearly complete silence.”

“Oh, please,” Harry snickered. He gave Dylan his best smile, putting his hand on Dylan's elbow. “I'm sure a man with your face hasn't been standing here in silence all night.”

Dylan frowned, but didn't move. “Are you flirting with me?”

Harry shrugged and stepped back. “Depends on you,” he mumbled into his glass before knocking back the champagne. “Do you want me to be flirting with you?”

“I don't mind it,” Dylan blinked. “You're fit.”

Harry simpered. “I know. So are you” A crash came from somewhere on Harry's left side. Giving it a look, he saw a toppled waiter along with many broken glasses around him and a child, who most likely ran into him, about to start wailing. “Would you like going somewhere more… quiet?” Harry suggested ever so innocently. “I know a place.”

Dylan breathed out a laugh. “Of course you do, you live here.”

“Indeed,” Harry gave him a coy smile. “Follow me.”

Harry led them far away from the party on a path sparsely illuminated by garden lights. They reached the small pond on the estate, grouped with an ancient white willow that towers and leans over the water. As a wish of Harry's great-great-great-grandfather, the pond and willow are always left alone. There isn't a bench, nor any proper landscaping done. It might just be Harry's favourite place in the world, the fleeting yet anchoring peace of sitting on the soft grass underneath branches older than the house itself.

“The house was named after this tree,” Harry told Dylan, grabbing his hand and pulling him in through the canopy of leaves. “White Willow Manor. It has been here for centuries. Poetic, isn't it?”

“Sure, baby,” Dylan said. “Did you bring me here for a history lesson?”

“This event  _ could _ be a history lesson one day,” Harry replied. “Depends on what I decide to do with my life.”

“You're a cocky little shit, aren't you?” Dylan said, his hands landing on Harry's hips. Bin-fucking-go. “A spoiled baby begging for attention. What do you want from me?” Harry replied with a smirk and his hand on Dylan's crotch. “Doable.”

Much didn't happen under the white willow, nothing more than a snog. When Harry tried to get down on his knees, Dylan pulled him up and said, “Baby, you'll dirty up your suit,” so into the house they went.

The party wasn't close to dying out so Harry used his friendship with the house to his advantage. They passed scarcely used corridors and servants' staircases until they reached Harry's bedroom. Then Harry's bravado subsided, the liquid courage pushed by back nervousness. But he wasn't giving up so easily.

Dylan wasn't Harry's first sexual experience, a blowie or two and some handjobs preceded him. The thing was, Harry knew very well that boys his age didn't know how to fuck people. A few were better than others because they'd learned from older lovers but he didn't feel like playing Russian rulet to find out for himself. Dylan was older, jaw-droppingly handsome and most of all, willing

“So what do you want, baby?” Dylan teased as he plopped down on Harry's bed. “What was going through your mind when you came up to me earlier?”

Harry sat on the side of his bed by Dylan, still fully clothed. “I wanted to... do it with someone. Is that so bad?”

“Not at all,” Dylan shook his head. “Am I your first?”

The question shocked Harry. He let out an embarrassed laugh, his cheeks going red and the intention to deny flashing in his mind. Eventually, he conceded and said, “Yes. Do you mind?”

“No,” Dylan said gently and sat up. He puts his hand on Harry's cheek, “I want to make this good for you, baby. We all start somewhere, don't we?”

“We do,” Harry agreed, composing himself. “Shall we then?”

“We shall, your highness,” Dylan smiled. “Tell me if anything feels wrong, baby. But tell me when it feels good too.”

“Will do,” Harry grinned and left an open-mouthed kiss on Dylan's lips. “Go on then, we don't have all night.”

“Will you turn into a pumpkin?”

“No, but you just might.”

And that is how Harry lost his virginity. He never saw Dylan again, and it didn't particularly trouble him. It was a good experience, better than most have with their first time and the deed was done. He knew what it was all about and was free to move onto other ventures.

He sure did move on. Time seemed to fly by. College ended and it was time for university and somehow along the way, Harry's entire friends' group changed. He had a growth spurt, got a different haircut and he started going to the gym. He stopped dressing all proper, as his mum would want him to and nearly caused her an ulcer when he wouldn't stop wearing a pair of vintage boots every single day for months. There were the new friends that often appeared in tabloids and took to calling Harry 'the better Prince Harry', even though Harry has told them a million times he isn't actually related to the Royal Family.

Harry was happy. He came to know himself by trying out different things whether it was a haircut, clothes or something more party-oriented. He fell in love, and out of it. He went from a wild child that isn't a stranger to The Sun to a man, who was wild only under very specific circumstances (and often just when shrooms were involved). He graduated from Oxford with a 2.1 in English, which he was proud of because he didn't cheat his way through university. Things were great, most of the time.

Sometimes, Harry was plagued by loneliness. Despite having dozens of friends, and dozens of potential lovers available, Harry felt distanced from love, true friendship, intimacy. Sure, Nick and Alexa and Daisy and everyone else were great, they loved him, but he was still the baby of the group. When they would go out, they'd be talking about their jobs and partners and whatnot, and then there would be Harry, silently wondering if his next essay was due the next day or actually a week after that. Despite that, he loved being the baby, the youngest of them all. There wasn't a party where everyone didn't pay attention to him, there wasn't an instance where he was ever forgotten. They felt protective of him and Harry thrived under that spotlight. With the difference in ages of his friends also came Harry's four godchildren and those he doesn't complain about as he adores them all.

Love was tricky. Harry never quite got the hang of it. He's tried, fuck he's tried so hard, with men, with women and nothing seemed to stick. At first, it was making him depressed, he would get drunk off his arse after breakups and lie in bed for a week straight but then he realized something. Nothing was wrong with him. It wasn't his fault. Some people just aren't built for relationships. Harry had requirements that weren't conventional, perhaps. He didn't want to feel suffocated, but at the same time, he wanted to stay still with his lover and be in all-encompassing love. He wanted domesticity but also an adventure. He wanted a quiet life but at the same time, he didn't feel like saying goodbye to fashion show invitations. It was fucking hard to find someone who sought the same dichotomic life.

The idea of having a baby on his own popped into Harry's head at a wedding when he was twenty-four. Daisy dragged him to it, some snobby relative of hers was getting married, and Harry had the weekend free and a new suit he didn't quite like but didn't want to waste anyway. He was apparently the last line of defence from boredom for Daisy. Only neither of them anticipated the grim mood that descended upon them and kept them at the table in the abnormally high temperatures for early May, drinking any alcohol the waiters would place on their table.

“Do you think we'll ever get married?” Daisy wondered out loud, her chin propped on her hand. “Do… whatever the fuck they're doing.” The outrageously strange thing was her relative feeding his wife a profiterole.

“I don't think I'm one for marriage,” Harry said, giving Daisy a look. “I've never managed to keep a relationship. Either way, I'm happiest with friends. I can get easy sex anytime I want, even with friends and other people I trust.” An eavesdropper from the opposite side of the table frowned at Harry. He raised his glass to her and gave her his best smile. The frown didn't go away.

“True,” Daisy agreed. “Aren't you scared you're gonna die alone? Family is family.”

Harry scoffed. “Marriage isn't really family. My parents are divorced. Surely, once one of them is at their deathbed, it's gonna be Gem and me there, not either of them. Do I need a spouse? Honestly?”

“I bloody hate weddings,” Daisy sagged in her chair. “I don't know why I agreed to come.”

“The sentiment is the same with me,” Harry mumbled. “I wasted a perfectly good suit on this,” he pulled at the lapels, looking the suit up and down. “I've no clue why I didn't like it, even earlier today.”

Daisy scanned the light-blue fabric and nodded. “It's a good suit. You look nice.”

“Thanks, love,” Harry said. Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair. A long pause passed before he nearly made Daisy choke on her wine, “I think I'm gonna have a baby. Just me, on my own.”

Daisy coughed a few times, her hand on her chest as she looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Why on earth would you do that?” The eavesdropper had been glaring again but this time, Harry saved his smile.

“I get lonely,” Harry shrugged. “Besides, the love between a parent and a child is not akin to anything else in the world. I feel like I have too much love to give and there is no one to give it to. And I love children anyways.”

“You're mad,” Daisy shook her head. “Get a cat if you're lonely, not a baby. You're young, darling, so young. Enjoy these years because once they're gone, they will never come back.”

“I know,” Harry signed softly. “But I've had enough, really. I think it's finally time for me to grow up.”

“Aw,” Daisy cooed and messed up his curls. “Our baby wants to do some growing up!” she smiled. “You'll always be our baby, even if you have a baby. But seriously, my professional advice is that you should get a cat. Or a dog. Or anything just don't get knocked up because of loneliness or some crap. Go on a spiritual tour, I don't know. There is more to life than babies.”

Harry groaned. “I know that. I can do other things besides being a dad. I can still carry on with my life, I'd just be raising a perfect specimen of human beauty alongside that.”

Daisy frowned. “Who do you want to procreate with then? Or are you actually trying to bring your own clone into the world?”

“I'm not a perfect specimen, I'd certainly benefit from a nose job and a blepharoplasty,” Harry remarked. “Concerning my yet to be conceived child, I've got a few candidates for procreation. I'll need to do some research first, some pros and cons lists.”

Daisy shook her head while laughing and pressed a kiss on Harry's cheek. “I'll come for you if I'm not the godmother to the perfect specimen of human beauty.”

“I'll keep it in mind.”

In spite of what Daisy might've thought, Harry doesn't throw himself headfirst into trying to conceive a child. As spontaneous as he is, he's also a planner and in important matters, he's verging on 'control freak'. He does a good deal of soul searching, figuring out if he can handle having a baby on his own. As a test, he babysits his four godchildren within one week, he watches Ruby for an entire weekend and they both survive unscathed. That works well enough as a test. Harry loves spending time around kids, even though he wasn't with them much in his youth since he was always the baby in family matters. But then the inevitable midlife crises of his relatives emerged when he was a teenager and suddenly there were young second-wives and husbands and lots of toddlers running around. Harry found that he was naturally good with them and the little ones were often drawn to him for some reason. It's just kids, they pick a person and slap their knee until they notice them for no discernible reason whatsoever. Harry's not mad at it.

After some literal pros and cons lists and a move to a house, replacing his strategically small and chic flat, Harry's mind is made up. He wants a baby. He's ready for it, he can definitely handle a baby without a partner and he knows he can provide for himself and the baby. Apart from his trust fund and other generational wealth that makes his now socially-conscious self sick sometimes, Harry also technically has a career of his own. He didn't get a degree in English simply because he likes books, he genuinely enjoys the craft, even though he's not sure if he's any good at it. Regardless, he's got some short stories published and is trying to build up a book of poetry that can serve as a book of songs too, if anyone wishes to grab an instrument and add melody to it. Plus, being kind of an Instagram influencer without trying isn't being an unpaid intern either. Just by being good friends with actual influencers and appearing on their accounts often has somehow attracted thousands of followers to Harry's previously very boring profile too. Now it's more of a fun hobby, playing around with the whole Instagram thing.

Harry stays mum about everything. He doesn't say a word to Gemma, his mum, his friends. Apart from that conversation with Daisy, he doesn't utter a single word about his plans to have a baby. He goes on multiple trips during summer, parties way more often than what's good for his liver (and skin), and gets his affairs in order so he can finally start trying for a baby. The first thing he does is round up all his single exes that weren't complete arseholes and is somewhat in contact with. Then there are the friends he occasionally sleeps with. The third factor in his baby daddy mission is the great unknown - random shags. Harry's not immune to them, and he actually quite likes them. Sure, he could do IVF but this is more organic, a lot more fate is involved. Plus, he thinks he can round up a better pool of men than a sperm bank. He had some concerns about the legality of his plan, so naturally, he asked the family lawyer and as long as he doesn't put anyone's name on the birth certificate or ask for alimony, it can be given the go-ahead.

As August draws to a close and September brings the first wisps of fall, Harry sets his plan into motion. Very early on, he's surprised to see how little people care about STDs, which are the most terrifying thing about unprotected sex to him at the moment. A friend of his gave him a crystal to ward them off and at this point, Harry's game even for that. He's more careful about hooking up, having to be aware of knowing that any of his random shags could end up the father of his child and that child could inherit some pretty bad traits. He keeps a list of everyone he sleeps with, along with dates, and even though it feels a little too college-mentality, this time it isn't only for bragging to his friends.

It's late November when a bad bound of flu turns out to be something else once the puking and nausea don't want to go away even after a week. It takes a blood test to confirm it for sure and when Harry gets the call with the results, he can't quite figure out what to feel. He paces around his dining room with the edge of his phone pressed against his lips and his hand on his lower belly even though it's too early to feel anything, trying not to freak out. He starts doubting himself. Is this actually a good idea? Does he have what it takes to raise a baby on his own? What if now he'll be completely undateable forever? What if his childless friends all drop him? What if his family is so pissed off they'll never speak to him again and cut off his finances? 

Harry decides to stay rational. He's an adult. He has too many friends to miss a few who would end their friendship over such a superficial thing. Being a parent won't flip him 180 for the worse. His family will be fuming but they could never truly hate him and try to ruin his life. It will be fine. It has to be fine. 

It becomes a mantra to him over the next few weeks as he continues to keep

the  _ tiny  _ detail of his pregnancy secret. He's managing everything on his own just fine and why create a ruckus earlier than needed? The hardest thing is constantly finding excuses for his lack of drinking but “a cleanse” or “a detox” never truly fail him. That's how he finds himself some weeks later painfully sober at his 25th birthday party, as his friends drunkenly scream about how their baby is getting big. If only they knew.

Harry decides to break the news to his family first, doing it a few days after his birthday on their monthly family dinner. He knows that soon, he'll start to show past the point where a couple of smart sartorial choices can conceal his changing body. Apart from that, he's happy, he's really fucking  _ happy _ that this is happening, that he has his own little human growing underneath his heart. He wants to share the joy with the people he loves, even if they might question his decision at first.

White Willow Manor is like a beacon, drawing Harry in as he drives towards it on the long driveway in the early winter darkness. It's Harry's favourite hello and hardest goodbye. He parks in front of the sprawling steps, his mum is already at the door.

“Oh, my baby,” she says as she wraps Harry in a tight hug. “Come on in, it's frigid out there. How was the traffic?” The tall door shuts behind them and the warmth of the house nearly tingles, even after the brief encounter with outside.

“It's London traffic, how could it be?” Harry says and kisses Anne on the cheek. “Is Gemma here already?”

“Yes,” Anne replies. “Already in the dining room, eyes glued to her phone. We were waiting just for you.”

“Dad is on time?” Harry chuckles as they walk down the long winding corridors. His soul relishes in the peace that the house brings.

Anne scoffs. “It's your father, don't be daft. He didn't come.” Harry frowns at his mum until she looks at him and discreetly rolls her eyes. “He has a new girlfriend, so he says. She moves in some of the circles your wretched friends do. I'm certain she's younger than Gemma, likely younger than you as well. He said she got them last-minute tickets for a West End play.”

“He should bring her over for dinner next time,” Harry quips. “If what you say is true, maybe I've slept with her. It should make for some quality entertainment.”

Anne gives him an unamused look. “Harry,” she sighs. “You know how much I despise your lewd habits. Do you know how many times you've nearly given me a heart attack with those tabloid headlines?”

“It's not my fault they latched onto me just because some of my friends are famous,” Harry argues. “I'm not a celebrity.”

“Your charm is sometimes a tad too magnetic, love,” Anne smiles a little. They've finally reached the main dining room. “Nonetheless, you're old enough now to stop with the boyish affairs. Your reputation has taken a hit. Aunt Mildred was shocked to see all those relationship rumours recently. You know how proper she is.”

Harry snickers as he opens the door. “Well, Aunt Mildred won’t like what I tell you tonight in the slightest.”

“What?” Anne frowns, scurrying after Harry. He just winks at her before making a beeline for Gemma. “Worst sister in the world, good evening,” Harry says and hugs her around the shoulders from behind, kissing her temple. “Missed you.”

“The textbook definition of a nuisance, hello,” she quips back. Harry's already seated opposite her at the long, antique table when she locks her phone and puts it screen down near her cutlery. “You didn't text me back today.”

“Didn't I?” Harry asks but doesn't move to investigate. His coat is already hanging from the back of his chair. “I'll text you back after dinner, mum said no phones, sorry.”

Before any real conversation can kick off, their food is brought out and there is space only for inconsequential chit chat. His mum is redecorating two guest rooms in the west wing, Harry talks about his own house that's in need of being properly finished and Gemma quips in with a story about how her cat Olivia drunk some wine when she wasn't looking and then puked into a planter and Gemma's plant died because of it. Truly thrilling.

Harry saves his news as dessert. He clears his throat, downs half a glass of water like he's preparing for a model UN debate and says, “I've got something to tell you. Some exciting news, I'd say.”

Gemma raises her brows, wiggling them at Harry. Anne visibly braces herself for some bad news, saying, “I guess it won't sit well with most of the family.”

“I don't know,” Harry shrugs. His heart is beating so fast now. He glances over at his favourite painting in the house, one of his great-great-great-great aunts that was a fencing champion, enraging most of the society by her actions. Her mischievous look has entertained and pushed Harry through many stifling family dinners. “ _ I'm  _ really happy,” he continues, “so I would greatly appreciate it if you could keep your judgement to yourselves.”

“For god's sakes, Harry, out with it,” Gemma huffs. “Don't tease us.”

“Fine,” he draws in a breath. “The news is that I'm pregnant.”

Silence falls over the room as both his mum and sister stare at him like he's just told them that he took a magic potion and now every night from midnight to 3 AM he turns into a house cat and catches mice.

“So?” Harry shakes his head, prompting them. “Any reactions?”

Anne closes her eyes, sighing as she presses her clasped hands against her face. She meets Harry's gaze then, “You've gone absolutely mad.”

“W-what?” Harry stutters. “Why would you say that?”

“For god's sake, you've just turned twenty-five,” Anne hisses. “You had never been given  _ any _ responsibility whatsoever, you've spent the past few years frolicking around London without a care in the world and now you think you're fit to be a parent? Please, Harry,” she scoffs. “I know you're not this stupid.”

“Mum, I'm an adult,” Harry says. “I didn't get knocked up, I  _ wanted  _ to have a baby. I actively made quite a lot of decisions that led me here. I've prepared for it.”

“You've never shown any interest in being a father,” Anne says. “You've never told anyone anything, only that you don't want to get married. How do you expect to have a child without giving it proper family background? How long have you even been with the one who helped you make this possible?”

“Actually, I'm single,” Harry says. “And I don't plan to get married, I don't plan to raise this baby with anyone else. It's just me and them.”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Anne sighs. Harry looks at her in shock. This is only the second time in his life he's managed to piss his mum off enough to make her swear at dinner. “Incredible. That's perfect! I raised my son to be a good man, to be honest, and respectable and what does he do? He decides to have a child on his own when he's barely out of university,” she huffs out a breath, shaking her head. She looks at Gemma then, who's been acting like she's invisible. “Aren't you going to tell your brother something, Gemma?”

“Uh,” Gemma fidgets with her glass, shrugging. “I think Harry's old enough to make his own decisions. If he's happy and if he's sure he won't regret this, it's not my place to police his choices and life.” Their eyes meet and Harry gives Gemma a small smile. She returns it, nodding at him cautiously so their mum doesn't notice.

Anne shakes her head again, turning her attention to Harry. “Are you certain you are not going to change your mind about this?”

“If you're asking me if I want to get a quiet abortion no one would know about, then yes, I'm sure I'm not changing my mind,” Harry sighs. “Mum… I know what I'm doing. I've thought this through, I had made a plan for this months before trying for a baby. I weighed the risks, the problems that could arise. There were very few things that could change my mind. I'm not ruining my life, mum.”

“Sweetheart,” Anne says softly, her angry-dog-stance subsiding. “I only want the best for you and your future. You wanted to go back to school to get a masters and get into academia. A baby isn't one of your fleeting obsessions, it's a human  _ you _ need to take care of. I don't want you to sacrifice your youth for a baby when you could easily have children later in life when you've got proper footing and someone else there to support you.”

“I get it, mum,” Harry says. “I've asked myself all these questions. I promise you, all of them. Even after doing that, I just knew I wanted a baby right now, on my own. I won't waste years looking for someone to get what I truly want when I could have it right now. I can do all that you've just said even with a child. It won't hinder me in my career or life.”

“Do you truly believe that?” Anne asks.

“I do,” Harry replies. “I can easily start my degree next year. You often forget it mum, but we have an insane privilege. If people without it can finish school while having children, why couldn't I? I could get twenty babysitters if I wanted to.”

“Well, then why do you want that baby if you won't even be with them?” Anne prods. “It's a human being, not a cat you can leave in your flat for hours on end and the worst that can happen is that your curtains will be ruined.”

“Mum,” Harry huffs out a breath, frustration getting to him now. “It was an exaggeration. People go to work and they have to leave their kids at home. I won't be with my baby 24/7 until they're eighteen.  _ You _ weren't either, if memory serves. You were more than happy to talk about your  _ baby _ at your charity parties and galas but then, you left me alone here in the house for days on end. So unless you stop being hypocritical, I'm not going to listen to anything else you have to say.” And with that, he stands up, throwing his cloth napkin on the table and leaving the room. He runs his fingers along the wall on the way to his old room, saying hello to the house. He misses living here, misses his truest friends that are still in the library, just waiting for him to pick them up and be reacquainted again. His happiness was actively stomped on but he knows his mum, she won't stay mad forever. She cannot hold grudges for long, unless they're against his dad.

His old room is warm and immediately takes him back to the easy times of his teenage years. He looks at the bed decades older than him and chuckles. He's had a  _ lot _ of sex and 3 AM pizzas on it. Harry plops down on it, his coat at the foot of the bed. He lies on his back as he's replying to texts and messages on his phone mindlessly, trying to put the whole disaster dinner behind him. Not a long time passes before the door opens quietly and Gemma comes in.

“Are you alright?” she asks, standing by the door. “Mum was horrible, but you know how she gets when she thinks we're about to ruin our reputation.”

“I'm okay, yeah,” Harry gives her a small smile. “Come sit down.”

Gemma doesn't hesitate and quickly joins Harry on the bed. “So, I'm going to be an auntie. Are you having a boy or a girl? Or is it too soon to know?”

“I don't wanna find out,” Harry replies. He sighs, locking his hands above his middle. Gemma eyes his stomach but there isn't much for her to see just yet. “All the information in the world is readily available. This is one of the few genuine surprises we can experience.”

“Good,” Gemma nods. “Why didn't you tell me, babe? You know I would've been there for you.”

Harry sighs. “I don't know. I didn't tell anyone. I just… felt like I needed to fully do it on my own. Not to mention that someone with great persuasion skills would've ultimately talked me out of it.” He looks up at Gemma, “I'm really happy, Gem. This is what I want, regardless of what people might say. This truly wasn't an accident.”

“I believe you, H,” Gemma assures him, putting her hand on his. “I can see how happy you are. But… you  _ do _ know whose baby it is, right? This isn't a Donna from Mamma Mia situation?”

“Nope, I think I do,” Harry chuckles. “Not that it matters.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Not anytime soon, no.”

“Can I guess?” Gemma suggests cheekily. “Just tell me the candidates.”

Harry groans playfully. “Fine. So there's… a few. So, I got Xander, Tom, Jeff, Roman, also in a twist of fate, Zayn.”

“What?” Gemma squawks. “You said you hated him. It's been  _ years. _ ”

“Well, I ran into him and one thing led to another,” Harry laughs. “He has good facial structure and was in the middle of a huge row with his on and off girlfriend, I couldn't resist a taste of the good old drama.”

“So no Nick then?” Gemma asks. She starts trying to braid the front of Harry's hair. “He's your BFF, isn't he?”

“Yes, but he has a boyfriend now,” Harry sighs. “Don't tell anyone, they're keeping it quiet. I would've if he was single.”

“That's all?”

“Wait, no,” Harry frowns. “Ryan from uni.”

“The professor?” Gemma squawks. “Are you mad?”

Harry shrugs. “I've always had a crush on him. And  _ he _ came onto me at that alumni dinner, alright? How could anyone in their right mind say no to that man?”

Gemma shakes her head. “That's all?”

“That's all. Who's your favourite?”

Gemma hums. “I don't know. Xander isn't a bad choice, I feel like you could rekindle your romance too if you wanted, some years down the line.”

“Maybe,” Harry muses. “I feel like we spent two whole years dating but only when he was in town.”

“Exactly, but you know with whom you'd make the prettiest baby? Zayn.”

“That's unfortunate but true,” Harry frowns. “Anyway, I'm not telling you. They won't know, anyone else won't know. Just me.”

“You're mean.”

“Stop acting like you're surprised by that.”

Gemma's face loses the playfulness then. “Are you truly alright? Health-wise. Physical  _ and _ mental. All this must be very hard to process on your own.”

“Of course,” Harry gives her a smile, putting a hand on her knee. “I'm completely healthy, and so is the baby, as far as we know. Week twelve has just begun and I feel great. Physically and mentally. I know it's a lot like,” he sighs, “the whole idea that I've got my baby growing inside of me is terrifying but exciting too? I  _ really  _ wanted this, Gem. I did. Everyone's scared, it's natural. I know people are gonna judge me and gossip about me, that I got knocked up and, I don't know, it was too late for an abortion when I found out. I know how cruel people can be.”

“Is that why you haven't said anything yet?” Gemma inquires. “To keep the gossip at bay at least for a bit.”

Harry sighs again. “I don't know. To an extent, yes. I was worried about how mum would react, my friends. I don't give a shit what tabloids or random people say about me, it doesn't affect my life in any significant way. But yes, I didn't want anyone to change their perception of me just yet. You know, I've always been the baby, the youngest, and now I'd be, you know, the dad or the fool who got knocked up and can't party with us anymore.”

“That won't happen,” Gemma assures him. “Some of your friends have kids. Mum will get over her crap. And you'll have the most adorable baby the world has ever seen.”

Harry tries to fight a smile but he ends up laughing. He looks up at Gemma, “It  _ is _ going to be the most adorable baby ever. I already have matching outfits for us planned. Weird question, but would you want to help me with the nursery? I don't want to hire an interior designer for it. You have a knack for that kinda thing.”

“Only if there's a Pinterest board involved,” Gemma grins. “Is my little nephew moving already? I've heard some people mention twitching, that sort of thing.”

“I already have three boards, don't worry,” Harry chuckles. “No, the baby isn't moving yet. And what makes you think it's gonna be a boy?”

“I feel like you can't bring any other human into the world except for a near-perfect clone of yourself,” Gemma explains. “Then you'll go around terrorizing people with your big smiles and dimples, breaking hearts left and right.”

“Stop,” Harry laughs and slaps her thigh. “I'm not  _ that _ self-centred. By the way, the baby is the size of a large lime or a small lemon at the moment.”

“Of  _ course _ you have one of those apps that tells you that crap.”

“Excuse you, I have  _ several _ of them.”

Later that night, Harry can't sleep. When he finds himself watching TikToks at 2 AM, he drags himself to the library instead. The house envelops him like a blanket, assuring him he'll forever find comfort between the walls. Despite the fight with his mum, his overall happiness bounces off the walls and reflects on them. In the library, Harry heads for the once-forbidden cabinet and pulls out Lord Tennyson. He sits himself in the bay window with only the full moon and outdoor lighting illuminating the ancient pages. This is the most formative part of his youth wrapped up in a single emotion. Harry thinks of what is to come soon. He knows he won't have much time for reading or writing for quite a while. But then, he pictures bringing his child here and showing them all his favourite books, all the best spots in the house, all the secrets. That baby is with him already and despite not visibly alerting of their presence, Harry knows he's not alone tonight.

“You know,” Harry says out loud, his voice bursting the night's silence. He hasn't spoken to his baby yet. He didn't think it would be any good doing it before the baby's more developed, but screw that. “One day, I'm sure you'll find yourself here, sitting here with a good book. I'll bring you here too, and read you something as soon as you gain interest in books. Dr Seuss isn't exactly Tennyson but we'll manage.” He chuckles softly, placing his hand on his belly. The day when he finally feels his baby can't come soon enough. “Just sit tight, my little lemon and soon enough, you'll be out here in the world, ready to explore all of its beauty. I do hope you'll love it.”

Harry goes back to reading, enjoying the still middle-of-the-night world. Sometime later, he's startled by the lights switching on. His mind goes “ghosts” but then he sees his mum at the door, her fluffy robe wrapped around her.

“May I join you?”

“Sure.”

Anne walks the length of the library and sits at the other end of the window. Harry watches her silently, not willing to be the first one to speak. She sighs, “I couldn't sleep knowing you thought I was angry with you and wouldn't support you. It isn't true, love. It's just hard for me to accept that both you and Gem are out there living your adult lives.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “I still think of you as my baby, when you're an adult about to have his own baby. I am so sorry for saying all those things at dinner, for seemingly painting you as a fool. I'm happy for you, Harry, I really am. You've always been smart. I know you would never throw yourself headfirst into something you weren't certain about.” She puts her hand on Harry's cheek, smiling a little, “I'll always be here for you and you were right, I didn't spend as much time with you when you were little as I would've liked and you have no idea how much I regret it. I know you won't make the same mistake as I did. Don't hesitate to ask for help. Even if you don't have a partner, you have your family still.”

Harry bites his lip, trying to suppress both his smile and the tears itching his eyes. “What about Aunt Mildred?”

“Oh, Aunt Mildred can piss off,” Anne laughs. “You matter to me the most.”

“Thank you, mum,” Harry says, breathing a sigh of relief as he grabs her hand. “I know I can rely on you.”

“You can,” Anne nods. “I'll give being a grandmother my best shot. Although I never thought you'd be the first one.”

“Gem always says Olivia is her kid,” Harry grins. “So you're already a grandma, technically.”

“I guess I am,” Anne laughs. “Come here, love.” She pulls him into a hug and now Harry truly feels at peace. With his favourite person in his favourite room with his favourite book. If White Willow Manor had a face, Harry thinks there would be a smile on it.

What fate didn't grant Harry (and the aesthetic of his possible memoir), he decides to give to his child. In summer, he makes the decision to have the baby at White Willow naturally, not at a hospital. Again, it's a controversial topic with everyone but he's made up his mind. So at the end of July, Harry settles in his old room at White Willow and returns to the old routine of his childhood summers. He has nothing to do but wait and he reads, reads, reads as if the books were to vanish from the Earth's surface. It's boiling, every day is so hot one wouldn't want to believe they're in England. It would've been bad normally but carrying around a few pounds of extra weight in his belly only makes the heat worse.

August 13th begins as a cold day, full of grey skies and rain. Harry wakes up early and starts reading the 1st edition copy of Pride and Prejudice he swiped from the closed-off cabinet in the library. But by midday, his baby fully decides to join in on the fun outside too. The house provides comfort to Harry during the ordeal because he knows he's home, he's gone through worse things within its walls, at least emotionally.

It takes a few exhaustingly painful hours but the sun is still up on the sky when he holds his daughter for the first time. He cries and kisses her a million times. The feeling of finally having his baby in his arms makes everything worth it. All the pain, the fights, the gossip. He knows he'll love her with all that he has and he will try his hardest not to ever let her down.

Harry can't sleep that night for whatever reason and those silent hours are when the reality truly hits him. He's a dad now. He has a daughter, his very own little human that he made with his body. Darlene is lying down in a nest near Harry on his bed, sleeping soundly. Harry starts playing with her little fingers carefully, as not to wake her. His heart could burst with the love he feels for her. Having her was the best decision of his life.

Darlene wakes up moments later, blinking her typical baby blue eyes at him. She doesn't cry, just grips his finger in her fist and Harry nearly does cry.

“Hi sweetheart,” Harry whispers, kissing her forehead. “Are you feeling good? Are you hungry, tired?” Of course, Darlene doesn't answer him. Harry chuckles and caresses her cheek with his knuckle, the skin impossibly smooth. “You're so beautiful, angel. I'm so lucky to be your dad because I already know you're gonna be such a radiant girl. Not looks-wise, don't get me wrong. Well, that too, but you know what I mean.” Harry breathes out a laugh, shaking his head at himself. “I hope you won't mind it will be just the two of us. I will love you so, so, so much, Darlene, you won't even notice you only have one dad. You'll have many aunts and uncles anyway. We'll have lots of fun, baby, don't worry,” Harry kisses her forehead again and plucks her out of the nest. She coos a little at the change but promptly settles herself in Harry's arms. Harry manages to finally fall asleep a couple of minutes later, now with Darlene pressed against his chest. He likes to think he was subconsciously missing being with her as closely as possible.

Darlene is three days old when a flock of Harry's friends drives over from London to see her, like they're the bloody kings that came to see Jesus. They do bring gifts but it's sushi and Gucci baby clothes instead of myrrh. As expected, there is a fight about who will be the godparents but Harry shuts it down by saying he's not getting Darlene christened so they can all be the fairy godparents. The shock that their “baby had a whole baby” doesn't quite wear off. They also try to figure out who the baby daddy is but it's all in good fun. And Harry truly knows then, as he watches his best friends fuss over his daughter, that he made the right decision. He didn't have to look for love because the love was already there, just a different kind of love. And neither he nor his daughter won't ever have to worry about losing it.

“Alright, do not tell anyone about this,” Harry tells Darlene, who's nodding with wide eyes. “Not a single soul.”

“Not even aunty Gem?” Darlene asks hopefully.

“Especially not aunty Gem,” Harry says. He's squatting down to be at her eye level so it's easy to reach for her hands then. “I've kept this from aunty Gem for decades, you absolutely cannot tell her.”

“Can I tell Mateo?” Darlene wonders. Harry thinks about his one-year-old, “Well, he can't quite speak yet. I suppose you can but think about it, and if you still want to after I show you this, then you can.”

“Alright, daddy, what is it?” Darlene asks impatiently. “Please, show me.”

Harry stands up straight and offers Darlene a hand. “Come with me.”

White Willow Manor hasn't changed much over the years. With minor fashionable updates, it retains its stoic face throughout decades. Not many renovations have taken place so Harry knows his favourite spot in the whole house still remains undisturbed. The colours of the house radiate warmth, and not just because of the stifling August heat.

Their steps lead towards the library, Harry's favourite place in the world. They enter the high-ceilinged room but they don't stick around. Harry takes Darlene to the right corner by the window.

“Okay, baby, now look carefully at what daddy's doing,” Harry says and pulls out a few books on the sixth shelf from the bottom. A tiny lever disguised as the backing of the shelf comes into view. Harry pulls at it and the shelf moves away, opening like a door. When he looks at Darlene, she's staring at the secret entry with her mouth wide open.

“Daddy! It's like in the films!” Darlene cries excitedly, pulling at Harry's arm. “Can we go in, please?”

“Of course we can,” Harry smiles at her. “But this isn't the only secret.”

The secret door hides a passageway to the master bedroom and everyone knows about it. No one's found much use for it since his mum stays in the room but Harry discovered something else when he was a bored seven-year-old. The passageway is dark as it has no windows. But the lineup of them on the second storey doesn't add up. Everyone wrote it off as the window being concealed for the passageway but that isn't the truth. There is an entire room hiding along the walls of the passageway.

Harry's turned on the flashlight on his phone to illuminate their way up until they reach an old sconce for a candle.

“Darly, look closely again, baby,” Harry tells Darlene as he twists the sconce to the side and then pushes the door open. They enter a dusty room littered with old furniture and the remnants of all the crap Harry's brought in over the years. That includes a new mattress for the old bed, two power banks, pillows, a guitar, magazines and books. There are a few toys underneath the bed still, from his childhood. Darlene steps inside in amazement, looking around with her lips frozen in a silent gasp for a moment. She runs her fingers along the bed and the furniture, as if she couldn't quite believe it's all real.

“So what do you think, love?” Harry asks Darlene, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. “Do you like it?”

“Is this secret room mine?” Darlene asks, turning to face Harry in a pause in her exploration.

“It is now,” Harry says. “I found it when I was seven. You're seven now so I think this should be of good use to you. Do you still want to tell your brother?”

“No,” Darlene shakes her head but her smile drops. “I love Mateo but he slobbers over all of my toys and my iPad. He won't do it if I'm playing here.”

Darlene has never seemed more like she's truly Harry's daughter than in this moment. They both love their siblings, but they  _ can _ be annoying. Darlene continues to traverse the room, walking away from Harry to a corner with books and magazines. 

“I should've kept it for Mateo, since he's the younger one and I'm also the younger sibling but when I found you reading my old books, I couldn't resist,” Harry says as he comes to Darlene, who has now started sifting through the old magazines. “I'm afraid you can't really read those just yet. I'll get you some that you'd enjoy, okay, baby?”

“Okay, daddy,” Darlene replies and looks up at Harry. “Can we spend some time here now? Just you and me? You're always with Mateo.”

“I'm so sorry, baby,” Harry says and kisses the top of her head. “He's just little, you know? He's still a baby and he needs more attention. We have to teach him how to speak, walk, all of that. Had to do it all with you as well. However, Darly, I still love you very, very much. I love you both equally, no matter what. What would you say if we read something together now in your secret room and no one would interrupt us? Only the two of us.”

Darlene nods enthusiastically and hops over to the bed immediately. Harry joins her with a copy of Anne of Green Gables he's had in his back pocket the entire time and gets to reading with Darlene tucked under his arm.

“Are you ready to meet Anne and all of her friends?” Harry asks Darlene as he opens the book.

Darlene nods, looking up at Harry. “She has the same name as grandma.”

“That's true, she does,” Harry chuckles and kisses the top of Darlene's head. “Alright, let's do this then.” He clears his throat and starts reading, “ _ Mrs Rachel Lynde lived just where the Avonlea main road dipped into a little hollow…” _

Harry's voice is carried through complete silence, only the inconspicuous sounds of the house settling seldom interrupting. Right then, it's just him, Darlene and a bloody good book. And White Willow Manor.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you all so so much for reading, it really means the world to me :) please, do leave some feedback and once all the authors have been revealed, i'll update this with my socials so we can chat more maybe xx


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